


the crown hangs heavy on either side

by doubleDerivative



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Friends to Lovers, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has ADHD, Kissing, M/M, No beta we die like archival assistants, Smoking, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives) Has ADHD, ace flavour: sex-positive, british people written by an american, but in this fic? no <3, ill do a character study type thing on my headcanon soon, ill say polyarchives rights one of these days, its cute dont get me wrong, its not stated outright but it affects how tim relates to sex, non explicit reference to sexual trauma, not explicitly but im autistic and adhd, research era, so implicit bias and whatnot, tim is lowkey grey aro?, timsasha is mentioned but unrequited :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubleDerivative/pseuds/doubleDerivative
Summary: Their friendship started very slow, very delicate. Tim took extra care to get Jon to open up to him, and he's proud of what he's done... But, he can't help but want more. Jon's just... so pretty, dammit. It's unfair, but he tries to bite his tongue and swallow his yearning for the sake of their friendship; some Jon is better than none. Besides, he has a reputation to maintain: Tim the player, the Casanova, sleeping around and never, ever catching feelings, never settling... Jon makes him want to stop everything and hunker down if he asked.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	the crown hangs heavy on either side

**Author's Note:**

> hello! ive been consuming tma and fan content at an unhealthy rate recently and hit my muse in the form of sweet sweet research era jontim... its truly abt the tragedy of it in the end, isnt it? anyway the beta title for this is "(to the tune of pac-man fever) jontim fever" i am a simple nd kinnie i project onto both jon and tim so pls b nice to them jksdfjlajdksajf
> 
> also i wrote this mostly between the hours of 12 to 3 am, in two days, and am too impatient to find a beta reader, so, enjoy any errors you notice :) comment appreciated! even ones bullying me for not being able to spell or something like that

“Do you… smoke?” Jon suggests tentatively, subconsciously doing a cute miming hand movement that makes Tim’s heart flutter. He fidgets with the edges of his cuffs, a bit wrinkled from where he repeatedly rolled and unrolled them throughout the day. He tended to do that- Tim had noticed in his pining watching- he’d get absorbed in whatever case was sent their way, push his sleeves up to his elbows stubbornly, and would only later realize how “unprofessional” he looked and bring them back down. It was… cute. Tim tries not to think about smoothing it out for him, gazing lovingly into his eyes- 

No, this  _ puppy crush _ , or whatever you wanted to call it, it wouldn’t fly. Tim is solitary, only showing interest in others for his own gains, a player by name and strictly casual… 

“Nah, why?” He asks in return, silently pushing down whatever revelation he was about to have. Jon stammers a bit, not expecting to be questioned on his motive.

“I just- thought it’d be awkward to- to go out alone, wanted to see if you’d come with,” Jon reveals with a small, crooked smile. He begins to open his mouth to speak again, but Tim cuts him off with a grin and a shake of the head, standing quickly.

“No need to thank me, anything to get out of work, right?” He jokes, throwing his arms behind his head and stretching his spine with a series of satisfying pops.

“Why would I thank  _ you  _ for  _ my  _ excuse to slack off?” Jon offers back, quickly exhaling in a late aborted laugh. It’s a little awkward at first, the two standing and rarely talking, mostly about work, Jon trying his hardest not to blow smoke at Tim when he responds clumsily to whatever Tim’s attempt at conversation is. Surprisingly, however, Tim agrees to go with Jon again the next day, “just an excuse to not work on company dime” tumbling in place of “I’m absolutely stricken with you.” After a while, it becomes almost routine, Tim waiting patiently by the door for Jon, them trading a few teasing remarks about Tim’s work ethic, before standing in that alleyway and chatting quietly about whatever comes to their minds. Tim privately preens at how much Jon has opened up around him, how they’re able to fall into an easy rhythm of back and forths without the awkward energy pulsing thickly in the air like it used to. 

After some time, a new routine developed, mostly out of a perceived necessity on Tim’s part. Jon had slowly stopped bringing lunches, he’d noticed, and decided,  _ no, that wouldn’t fly _ . Whenever he prepared food for the next day, he always made sure to make a little extra, slipping it onto Jon’s desk while he was away and pretending nothing had happened. Some days went uneaten, politely returned to Tim’s desk, others gone in the blink of an eye, Tim slowly deducing that it’s a question of what rather than the day. As often as he could, he made something he knew Jon liked just in case, stashing it if what he made ended up returned or something he knew Jon didn’t like.

Eventually, Jon confronts him, demanding to know, “how can I repay you?” to which he receives a scoff and a gentle shake of the head. 

“What if I come over to yours and make you dinner, sometime?” Jon supplies, walking alongside Tim, close enough to mean nothing and everything at the same time to a  _ stupid, lovestruck fool _ , he chastises internally. It’s not… exactly the reason why Tim wanted him over but, well, you take what the gift horse gives you.

“What about tonight?” he offers, praying he doesn’t sound too eager. Jon looks surprised, then thoughtful, then-

“Sure, why not?” he says with that crooked, half-smile of his. The evening is pleasant, well, more than pleasant. It’s great, really, he learns more about Jon in the few hours they spend in Tim’s flat than the entirety of their smoke breaks. Not just things that Jon outright tells him, either, but other, more subtle things Tim picks up on from years of reading people. Their conversations are warmer, an underlying understanding coursing through their teasing, after that night. Another routine- Jon comes over every Wednesday and Friday to make dinner for the two of them, they learn more about each other in every little interaction.

When the colder weather hits, Tim finds himself unbearably close to Jon on his smoke breaks, wanting to just reach out and- grab him or kiss him or both or just-  _ something _ . Jon starts coming over more, offering to cook still, but being laughed off and told “talk to me on Wednesday” or “oh, is it suddenly Friday?” The two become close, closer than Tim could have ever dreamed, but still not close enough, not in the right way. He silently curses himself for not just taking what he’s given without complaint. Jon, to his credit, seems to pick up that something is off, and shifts slightly to face him. 

“Something wrong, Tim?” and Tim damns the tingle that runs down his spine when Jon says his name. He shakes his head, trying to school his features into something cool, collected, but it must have come across as something else, as Jon presses on, “you can talk to me, you know.”

Tim sighs, and very quickly makes his decision, though not really understanding the thought process behind it. He takes Jon’s face in his hands and leans in, before freezing, remembering one of their earlier conversations. His face heats up dangerously, voice cracking through his embarrassment.

“Is- is this-” he doesn’t get to finish the question, as Jon himself leans in, closing the distance almost… impatiently? Not that it matters, as all Tim can process is the feeling of their mouths together and Jon’s hands slipping around his waist. When Jon pulls away and he has the chance to regain his awareness, he realizes he’s been backed against the stone wall of the Institute- and based on the way Jon flushes as realization strikes him too, it was in no way intentional. They share a giddy laugh, neither making a move to part, foreheads resting together. 

“I’ve been- I’ve wanted to do that for- for ages now,” Jon admits breathily, to which Tim shakes his head incredulously.

“I’ve been flirting with you for months, Jon,” Tim huffs pointedly.

“I thought you- you acted like that with everyone?”

“No?”

“You act that way with, uh, Sasha!”

“She shot me down already but said she doesn’t mind the flirting.”

“Oh.”

There’s a thick pause, the both of them coming down from the high of the kiss. Not that Tim regrets it, not at all, just, part of him is afraid of how Jon is going to act, now. He worked so hard to build up even a little bit of the friendship they have now, he’d hate for it to come crashing down if that’s not what Jon wanted.

“We should, probably get back… Are- we still on for tonight?” Jon asks, pulling away finally. Tim is only slightly reassured by the blush dusting his cheeks. 

“Of course, if you’re up for it.” Jon gives him a curious look, but nods regardless and starts to head inside, that crooked smile hanging off his face.

The next few hours pass agonizingly, Tim occasionally stealing glances over at Jon, absorbed in his work as ever; his anxiety was driving him to the edge. Sure, he’d gone out with plenty of people, but Jon wasn’t plenty of people, and even then, he could get surprised; people blushing wildly at his advances have still turned him down, potential relationships turned out to only want something casual or a fling. What if Jon was the same? Not really interested in anything deeper than his skin, not the way he was interested in Jon. The thought makes his skin crawl, and he tries in vain to brush it off by focusing on his work, and when that fails him, he turns to pester Sasha.

She’s already on him before he can even stop the trajectory of his chair.

“You’re looking at Jon awful funny, what’s up, Tim?” she whispers, conspiratorial smile stretched wide, crowding her features.

“Nothing besides another day of hopeless pining,” he responds, not exactly a lie, but not quite the truth, either.

“Tim, I’ve seen you pine before, this isn’t it. Something happened and you’re going to tell me,” she states confidently, a mischievous glint in her eyes. He really didn’t want to, but he found the words slipping from his tongue before he can process.

“I kissed him. He kissed me? We kissed, doesn’t matter who initiated,” he says casually before slapping a hand over his mouth, face flushing. He silently thanked whatever god was watching over them that Jon had been too deep in his own work to pay attention. “I promise I’m not one to kiss and tell, I have no clue why that slipped out like that.”

“Maybe because you trust me? Who knows,” she says with a shrug, placing a finger up to her lips. “Secrets safe with me, though,” she assures, and Tim sighs in relief.

“Don’t bring it up with him either, I don’t want to ruin this,” he says lowly, and Sasha nods with a thumbs up before returning to her work. 

Tim wholly expects that evening to be torturously tense, and, perhaps it is, but Jon acts as if nothing even happened for the majority of the time, which makes Tim’s stomach flip anxiously. At some point, he doesn’t know when, just that they were still at the table, he takes a deep breath in, then out.

“So… about the kiss,” Tim starts. Jon blinks at him owlishly.

“What about it?” he asks, innocence dancing from his tongue, throwing Tim off completely.

“I just… it feels like you’ve been avoiding talking about it? And, like, what it meant?” he admits with a groan.

“Oh. Oh! Sorry, sometimes I forget- right so, I sort of figured we were already dating, therefore, I wanted to act normal so you didn’t think I was clingy or anything like that.” Tim couldn’t help from gaping, pinching the bridge of his nose.  _ How do I love this man? _ He thinks as he takes another deep breath in, out, and realizes he just consciously admitted to  _ loving _ Jon, not just liking. He pushes that down for now, focusing on the situation at hand.

“Why- don’t get me wrong I am very open to the idea of dating you, ecstatic even, but  _ why _ did you figure we’re already dating?” Jon tenses, then relaxes.

“We kissed. Do you kiss people without the intention of dating?”

“Yes? Sometimes?”

“Oh.” There’s that thick silence again, and Tim almost wants to say “not this time, though,” but Jon makes a thoughtful noise and shakes his head.

“I suppose that makes sense. But, I’m also open to the idea of dating.” Jon says with a smile, a full, genuine smile, and Tim can’t help but beam back. Eventually, they decide to sit on the couch, and for a while Jon keeps a polite,  _ nervous, maybe _ , distance, though he hesitantly allows himself to relax. They stay like that for a while, simply existing in each other’s space, Tim more focused on repressing the itch for more than on the shitty thiller movie on the screen. 

Jon turns to say something to him, and he finds his hand moving of its own accord, coming up to gently caress his face. For a second, he fears Jon will recoil, but finds him actually leaning into it, and lets a breath he didn’t realize he was holding out as inconspicuously as possible. They end up, once again, mouths pressed together, Tim this time savouring the pressure of being pushed into the couch, the feeling of hands running along his sides, his chest, his shoulders. He almost,  _ almost _ lets himself sink into the whole experience, before an old conversation startles him back to his senses, and he pulls away, or, as much as he can; he staunchly ignores Jon’s hand resting on his outer thigh. Something about his demeanour must have tipped Jon off, as he sighs shakily.

“That- that’s not what the intention was, I promise. But, for your information, I don’t…  _ despise _ sex, I simply am not physically inclined to engage,” he says, almost robotically, like he’s given this speech more than once. Tim’s face flushes, deepening by several shades.

“Ah. Sorry, for assuming.”

“It’s alright.”

Before any awkward pauses can kill the mood, they’re back to kissing, Jon’s hands still roaming Tim’s body almost with curiosity; like he wants to memorize every inch of him. Tim silently preens under the attention, his brain sparking and fizzing. Kissing felt so much better when it was someone you actually cared about, who would have known? Not that Tim didn’t care for his earlier flings, he just never really had the connection he had with Jon. He tunes back in to reality from the raucous clattering of his own mind to find his shirt has been thrown haphazardly to the floor. Well.

They spend the rest of the night doing about the same, just kissing, occasionally talking, Jon idly tracing Tim’s body, before they both realize just how late it is.

“You should stay, it’s way too late, I’d die of anxiety before you got back to your flat,” Tim says, trying to keep the pleading from his tone. Jon sighs, shakes his head, pauses, and sighs again.

“I can take the couch, if you’d like.”

“I don’t see why we can’t share the bed without making it intimate, unless you’re uncomfortable.” Tim blinks. Well, that’s certainly… a point.

As he lays next to Jon, listening to his soft breathing, his mind begins to run, throwing every pseudo relationship he’s ever been in that ended messily back in his face. Eventually, he relents to the anxiety, and speaks up quietly.

“This… this isn’t going to be casual, right?”

“Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> edit: my girlfriend called me out on how much i projected onto jon... and how much i projected her onto tim....... oopsie lol. 
> 
> ive decided to keep this as one chapter, but dont fear! im writing two different tma fics right now that will b much longer, one of them is going to b a bunch of domestic jontim bc im soft for them n they deserve it,,, mayb ill make this into a connected universe mayb not. stay tuned! :D


End file.
